


Where Boys Fear To Tread

by SpaceCadetGlow



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Coercion, Forced Orgasm, Guilt, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rape, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:29:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCadetGlow/pseuds/SpaceCadetGlow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>HJ likes watching Nelson get fucked by other men -- then punishes him for sleeping around.  Eddie Blake is HJ's plaything of choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Boys Fear To Tread

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Watchmen kinkmeme, which exists in its current iteration here: http://watchmen-km.dreamwidth.org/287.html. If you enjoy this fic, please leave a comment; feedback makes my day!

The locker room is dim, quiet, and completely deserted except for Nelson. It's late even for the Minutemen, safe enough to meet Rolf here. He's early as usual, or maybe Rolf is late, which wouldn't be unusual either. Sitting down on one of the hard wooden benches, Nelson's fingers anxiously work at the fabric of his pants. _Soon,_ he has to tell himself. It's been longer than usual between their trysts, and he needs this – but Rolf will be there. _Soon._

The door opens, banging loudly against the wall, and a fully-costumed Rolf shoves someone into the room. Rolf locks the door quickly, then pushes the man forward again.

“Blake.” After the incident with Sally, Nelson had hoped never to see the kid again. “It's been a while.”

Eddie drawls around one of his blasted cigars. “Miss me, Nelly-boy?” He's barely eighteen, all youthful arrogance wrapped up in a leather jacket and dungarees. It's only been two years since Blake crossed the line, since they threw him out of the Minutemen for attacking one of their own.

“This little rat leaves a trail of blood wherever he goes,” Rolf says. “He wasn't hard to find.”

Nelson stands, regarding the younger man coldly. “HJ, what is he doing here?”

Rolf looms close behind Eddie, and a less observant man might have missed the tiny start that Eddie gave at the other man's sudden proximity. It doesn't escape Nelson. It's only been two years since Rolf caught Blake just in time, since Rolf shattered his cheekbone and broke his nose. It still doesn't look quite the same. “Tell him, Blake.”

Eddie shuffles on his feet and pulls the cigar from his mouth. “This fucker here—” Rolf cuffs him, hard, on the side of his head. Eddie winces, recovers, and begins again with a perfectly level gaze. “Hooded Justice says he was bringin' me here to fuck you.” His eyes, brown like dark chocolate, like mud, like shit, bore into Nelson's. He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, like there's a joke in there somewhere. 

Nelson stiffens and straightens. Eddie still has four inches on him. “Blake, that's repulsive. I suppose that's what you're up to these days? I should have known that someone like you would— _What_ is so funny?”

The youth is laughing, wry and bold, the sound echoing off the tiled walls of the locker room. “Please, Nelly. Did you think you two had everyone fooled? Sure, maybe you can trick morons like Bill and the Owl. But not me. I've had you figured out for years.” Nelson's heart leaps into his throat as Eddie guffaws with self-satisfaction. If Eddie knew, who else knew? This couldn't get out, it would be the end of the Minutemen and the end of him too. “Hey!” Blake shouts, Rolf having grabbed him by the hair. He pulls his head back roughly, his face just inches from Eddie's ear.

“Blake thinks he's so clever,” Rolf mocks. “He thinks he knows all there is to know about everyone. About _us_.” Nelson can practically see the sneering curl of Rolf's lips through the purple hood. “But what does a boy, even a boy as cocksure as Edward Blake, know about the goings-on between grown men?”

Eddie struggles, but Rolf's grip on him is tight, unbreakable as iron. “Fuck you,” he hisses.

Rolf chuckles, a terrifying sound given the circumstances. “Not me,” he says, releasing Eddie and letting him stumble forward. “Now get undressed. Both of you.”

The sudden, sickening feeling Nelson gets is one of unmitigated horror. “HJ!” His voice is agitated, a few notches higher than usual. “What are you doing? What _is_ this?”

Rolf crosses his thick arms decisively. “We're going to show this shitstain just how ignorant and foolish he is. Do as I say,” he says sternly, and when he gets like this, Nelson knows he has to acquiesce to whatever he wants. It is quick enough for Nelson to undress, having been waiting here for Rolf with one purpose in mind. He pulls off the white sleeveless undershirt and the orange pants of his costume, standing before two deadly men in only his underwear. Blake hasn't moved.

“You're a good little lap dog, Nelly,” says Eddie, dropping the stub of his cigar to the floor and producing a new one from his pocket. “It's almost kinda cute. But the joke's over, fellas. Send my love to the rest of the old crowd.” He gives a small wave of farewell, freshly-lit cigar in hand, as he turns to leave.

He gets no more than one step before being blocked by the massive wall of Rolf's body. “It's no joke, boy. No game. Help him,” he orders Nelson, who steps forward to tug Eddie's leather jacket from his shoulders. Blake protests, but Rolf's unyielding stare is enough to keep him from struggling too much. The cigar barely makes it into Eddie's mouth before the jacket is pulled off. Next comes the button-down shirt, undone one button at a time. Finally, Nelson reaches for Eddie's belt. He meets the other man's eyes as he does it, having to tilt his head slightly upwards, but feeling like the one in control nevertheless. Rolf gives a single nod over Blake's shoulder, and Nelson pushes the man's jeans and underwear down so they fall to the floor. The heavy buckle of his belt clanks loudly on the floor like a bell, like a warning.

Nelson knows what Rolf expects of him; he sinks to his knees. Eddie is superbly built – as much as Nelson despises him he has to admit that – but his flaccid cock still leaves something to be desired. “Just what do you think you're gonna do, huh?” Blake asks, the tiniest quaver starting to enter his voice. “I'm not a goddamned queer. Have fun trying.” He laughs again, but it isn't convincing.

A gloved hand lands heavily on Eddie's shoulder. “I don't know,” Rolf says thoughtfully. Nelson runs his hands up Blake's thighs and nuzzles against his groin, darting his tongue out to lap experimentally at the other man. “With one of those big, thick cigars always in your mouth, I'd imagine you must have at least thought about this before.” Blake's cock is starting to twitch. Nelson gently pumps at it with one hand until it stands full and stiff and ready.

“This is America,” Eddie pants, involuntarily gasping for breath when Nelson takes him into his mouth. “Didn't they tell ya to check your fucked-up kraut shrink talk at the border?” Rolf is above such petty provocation, and Eddie falls silent. Nelson knows that Blake is holding any signs of pleasure in with all his might. If he can use his mouth to draw lustful groans from the perpetually impassive Hooded Justice, there's no way Eddie isn't enjoying this, no matter how unwilling he is to show it.

When Eddie finally slips, a tiny, dry moan slipping from his mouth as Nelson swallows him all the way down, Rolf yanks the youth back. “That's enough. Down on the bench.” Nelson wriggles out of his underwear and quickly moves to straddle the bench, leaning forward and pushing his ass back in anticipation. His penis, held between the solid wooden plank and the warmth of his own stomach, is growing hard; the thought of getting fucked by Eddie would usually make him shudder, but the thought of Rolf forcing Eddie to fuck him to prove a point is positively exciting. Now, Rolf has Eddie by the nape of the neck, pulling the cigar from his mouth and tossing it on the floor. He throws Blake down on the bench and drags him forward so that his face brushes Nelson's behind.

“Aw, fuck no,” Blake complains. “That's sick.”

“Do it,” growls Rolf. He forces Eddie's head forwards again, and Nelson can feel the tickle of a mustache against his ass, and warm breath against his entrance. “Don't make me tell you again, boy.”

A long, hot sigh, and then Blake's tongue is brushing against him. Nelson is growing delirious with lust; Rolf only ever did this to him once, and refused to ever again. Too degrading for a man like him, Rolf thought – but just degrading enough for Nelson to reciprocate on him, and certainly more than enough for Eddie. The warm tongue laps at the sensitive ring of muscle compliantly, if not enthusiastically. It's sufficient. Nelson moans, mouth open and eyes shut, and completely grateful to Rolf for this. “God, oh God, more, please!”

Rolf extends a hand and runs it fondly through Nelson's golden hair, then down the planes of his back to the curve of his ass. “You heard him. Give him more, Blake. _You know what he needs,_ don't you?”

Nelson can hear Blake breathing heavily behind him. He wonders if the other man is still hard, wonders if Rolf is getting hot from this too. He writhes helplessly as Eddie's tongue pushes tentatively inside him. “Yes, oh, thank you, HJ,” he breathes. The wet heat of Blake's mouth working around and inside blocks out everything else except the throbbing hardness of his cock, and he begins to rut needfully against the bench. Rolf says something behind him that he can't quite make out, and then Eddie pulls away. Nelson whines in protest until something larger presses against his entrance, blunt and thick and pushing hard.

It hurts as Blake enters him, with no lubrication save for what saliva still remained there. It hurts, and it's _Eddie_ , and Rolf is still standing there watching them; Nelson pushes himself up with one arm and reaches down with the other to give himself the release he needs, but Rolf smacks his hand away, and Nelson has to sink back down. Rolf never lets him finish that easily.

Blake pounds into Nelson, grunting as he does so, skin slapping unabashedly against skin. Nelson rolls his hips hungrily, the motion alternately impaling him on Blake's cock and grinding his own member against the bench. Even with this crude method, Nelson knows he won't last much longer when Eddie slams into that spot, purely by coincidence. He frots desperately, crying out once when Eddie hits home for a second time, then again as his orgasm surges and he spills out in blessed release.

As if he were waiting for that moment, Rolf seizes Blake yet again, and tosses him easily to the floor. Blake's head smashes into one of the lockers with a dull bang. Wondering what Rolf is planning next, Nelson looks on lazily from his prone position. “What the hell?” Eddie is practically exploding at this point, but he is no match for Rolf, who easily quashes his efforts to climb successfully to his feet. “Didn't I do everything you wanted?”

“Nelson,” Rolf says calmly, “your handcuffs, please.” They're attached to the belt of his pants, discarded on the floor but easily within reach. “Thank you. Wait here, I'll be back shortly.” He pulls Blake up, forces his arms behind his back, and walks away with him, like a cop escorting someone to a police car – but this is much, much bigger than that.

Nelson sits up, wipes the cum from his stomach and groin with Eddie's balled-up undershirt, and waits patiently for Rolf's return.

~*~*~*~*~

“Let me go, Jesus Christ!” Eddie's struggles are useless, and so are his pleas. “What the fuck do you want with me?”

Rolf uses Blake's body to shove the men's room door open. “Just a little more of your time, _mein Junge_.” He closes one side of the handcuffs around Blake's wrist, a bit tighter than is strictly necessary. “Get down on your knees.”

“What, are you gonna make me suck your dick now?” Blake grumbles. Rolf helps him downwards with one large hand on the youth's head, and directs him into one of the bathroom stalls. 

There is an unmistakable smile in Rolf's voice. “Would you like that?”

“Fuck no,” Eddie says. Rolf grabs his cuffed arm and yanks it around the back of the toilet, so Blake is hugging the base of the bowl. The other cuff snaps shut. “But I'll do it!” he says quickly, the tiniest hint of fear apparent in his face. “If you let me out of here once it's done, I'll do it. Right now. No tricks, nothin'.”

Rolf pauses for a few seconds. Let Blake think he's considering his offer, as if he needs it, as if it could possibly be better than what he has planned for later. He lets out a deep, hearty chuckle, which grows louder as he watches Blake's face fall. “You chose your name well,” he says, tousling Eddie's hair like a master petting a favored dog. “A little comedian indeed.” Eddie stares at the floor, shifting uncomfortably on his knees, panting. Rolf can tell he's beginning to panic. Good.

He crouches down in the doorway of the stall, his face almost level with Blake's. “Can you stay here like a good boy?”

Blake spits on him. His panic is growing more desperate, and it's no surprise when the first threat is made. “I'll fucking kill you, sadistic fucking faggot, whoever the fuck you are, I'll find you and I'll—”

The upwards punch to the naked man's stomach draws a satisfying “oof,” effectively silencing the empty threats. Rolf has to keep his hands clenched in tight fists to prevent himself from smashing Blake's face into the toilet. He knows how much Nelson hates Blake, but suspects that too much physical violence wouldn't sit well with him.

He can wait. 

“You should try and relax,” he says, rising slowly. “It will make it easier for you later.” The prone man continues groaning and carrying on, but Rolf makes himself leave the room instead of shutting him up permanently. There would be plenty of time to deal with Blake, but now he has another man to deal with, and he knows what he has to do.

As he returns to the adjoining locker room, he sees Nelson standing between the rows of lockers, stretching like a contented cat. “I had no idea what you were doing when you first brought him in here,” he says with a small smile. “But I have to say, I'm grateful.” He steps very close to Rolf, easy and graceful in his nudity. His body is muscular and dusted in golden hair – perfect – and it's almost painful to see him so open and trusting, to know that he, Rolf, does not deserve that trust.

Rolf is very near to trembling as Nelson runs his hands along his chest and gazes up at him adoringly. “So you liked that?” he asks Nelson.

The other man looks only slightly abashed. “Of course. It was thoughtful of you, in a way. What have you done with him now?”

Rolf doesn't answer the question. “You liked getting fucked by another man?” He seizes Nelson by the shoulders, turns him around, and pushes him up against the lockers. He doesn't want to have to see Nelson's face, see the trust turn to fear. He strips off one of his gloves and tosses it to the floor. “Well?”

Nelson tries to turn back around, but Rolf holds him fast against the cold metal. “Only because you—”

“Yes or no?” Rolf demands. He roughly fondles Nelson's ass before pushing a thick finger into him.

Nelson moans softly. “Yes,” he breathes.

Rolf makes a noise of disgust. “I see. He's nothing to you, but you let him fuck you anyway.” He adds another finger and twists them, rough and dry. “Would you have let him come inside you if I hadn't pulled him off of you?”

“I...” Nelson trails off and his mouth works as though he can't decide whether to explain himself or beg for more from his lover. “Rolf, I just want—”

” _Slut_ ,” Rolf hisses. “You would have let him do it, you wanted him to!” Nelson doesn't answer, just releases a deep lungful of air in a wordless sound. His eyes are closed, his fingers grasping at the grates in the locker doors. “Are you that pathetic that you need to satisfy yourself with any young thing that comes along?”

“Rolf,” Nelson keens, squirming and wriggling backwards. Rolf has managed to keep Nelson from pressing that sinfully tantalizing backside against his painfully hard erection thus far; he's been incredibly aroused since the very beginning of this strange tryst, and he's uncomfortable to say the least. He doesn't deserve the indulgence, and Nelson doesn't deserve to be used this way, but Rolf needs it. 

His hands still hold Nelson firmly, one against his left shoulder blade, the other half buried inside of him. “Don't you realize how wrong that is?” Rolf says sternly. He withdraws the fingers from Nelson and smears them across the man's lips. Nelson whines indescribably; even Rolf isn't sure if it's fear or lust, but there's no going back. He yanks down his leggings just enough to free his swollen cock, and begins to push into Nelson's entrance, already used once tonight. The ring of muscle scrapes tightly around his member without any of the lubrication they usually use. It's more discomfort than pleasure for both of them, which he doesn't mind on his own part, but Nelson's quiet whimpers unsettle him. This is Rolf's penance, not Nelson's, and if there was a way to spare Nelson this discomfort, he would grant him that kindness. 

Rolf begins to move in shallow thrusts, willing his body not to tremble, willing Nelson to _shut up_ because he feels terrible enough about this already, willing it to be over quickly. Feeling guilty proves that he still cares, but he could never explain this to Nelson, not fully. All he can do is hope that the man will understand. Rolf starts to move in deeper, closing his eyes and imagining anything erotic that his brain can muster to make him finish sooner – Nelson sucking his cock with heavy lids fluttering over his bluer-than-blue eyes; whipping and spanking a begging Captain Metropolis, who wears his bruises like badges under his costume; even fucking a bleeding Edward Blake into the tiles of the bathroom floor – _not_ the jaded, dull-eyed boys at the club who would endure anything for a few dollars, _not_ them. “I'm sorry,” he whispers, the words adamantly thought but barely spoken. When he comes, it's a relief and nothing else.

He pulls out and hears Nelson exhale softly, surely relieved too. Rolf sinks to the floor, and miraculously, Nelson allows himself to be pulled down into Rolf's lap. His hair is soft between Rolf's fingers, and the lack of anger is an unexpected mercy. At last, Rolf pulls his hood off and kisses Nelson tenderly.

“I hope that wasn't too much for you,” he says, the closest to an apology he dares to speak.

Nelson reaches up and cups his cheek in his hand. “You were never really cross with me, were you?”

“No,” Rolf answers, covering Nelson's hand with his own and grasping it gratefully. “No, never.”

~*~*~*~*~

Many minutes pass with Nelson curled up comfortably in Rolf's lap, eyes closed in content as Rolf runs a large hand through his hair and across his shoulders. Nelson is perfectly relaxed, and he smiles lazily up at his lover every so often, as if waking from a pleasant dream each time he opens his eyes. It's so unlike what Rolf was expecting – unlike what he deserved - that he lets the two of them stay there longer than he had planned. It must be nearing four in the morning, and there is still one final task to which they must attend. 

Rolf pulls Nelson close and kisses him once more before pulling his hood back on.

“Time to go, then?” Nelson asks. He starts climbing to his feet, using Rolf's broad shoulder for support, and starts gathering his clothes.

Rolf nods. “But not time to leave. There's still Blake.”

“What about Blake?”

“I'm not done with him. _We're_ not done with him,” he corrects himself, looking pointedly at the other man. Nelson looks at him curiously, clearly wondering what else lies in store. “Come with me.” As Nelson follows him to the bathroom, Blake starts up his complaints again.

“I can hear you out there! You've made your goddamn point, set me loose already!” 

Nelson pauses at the door, and speaks in a hushed whisper. “You are going to let him go, aren't you?”

“Of course,” Rolf says. “Just not yet.” Nelson continues to eye him expectantly. “After this,” he affirms. “I can hardly keep him here forever.” With that, he pushes open the door, cape swishing behind him, and Nelson behind that. 

~*~*~*~*~

It smells like fear in the bathroom, and Nelson imagines Rolf grinning underneath his hood. “Have you been a good boy for us, Blake?” Rolf looms in the doorway of the toilet stall and looks down on Eddie, who rests awkwardly on his elbows and knees. “You haven't soiled yourself, have you?” 

“Look, fellas,” Eddie says, without a hint of sardonicism, “let me go, huh? I won't say nothin'.” He turns his eyes to Nelson, who peers around Rolf with interest. “Nelly, you're an okay guy, I wouldn't rat you out.” Nelson glances at Rolf, who's as unshakeable as always, in contrast to his own growing sense of unease. Blake appears perfectly serious, and he doesn't like that.

“Clever boy, to know what's best for him,” murmurs Rolf. He pulls a small key from inside his remaining glove and kneels down to undo the handcuffs. The expression of relief on Blake's face is short-lived; Rolf pulls him from the stall and drags him under the utilitarian sinks, where he re-locks the cuffs around a pipe. Nelson stares for a moment, sensing that this could go in one of two directions, and he's not sure which is the more reprehensible. Then Rolf is in front of him, backing him up against the side of the bathroom stall, and that's all he can think about.

“Nelly,” Rolf says thickly, and just hearing his name like that makes Nelson's heart start pounding – that, and the way Rolf has him pinned against the thin metal wall, feeling coldness at his back and strong, masculine heat at his front. “You know you are mine?" It's not dirty talk, despite the closeness of Rolf's body, and it's not a rhetorical question either.

The intensity in Rolf's eyes is unlike anything Nelson has ever seen in him, and he wishes he weren't wearing that wretched hood. He wishes he could see the rest of his lover's face to better understand his meaning. “Of course,” he says softly. “Always.”

Rolf repeats the word thoughtfully. “Always.” He nods and raises a hand to stroke at Nelson's cheek. “I want you by my side in all things.” Unsure how to respond to such a heartfelt admission, Nelson hopes that turning into the gentle touch with a smile is sufficient. Blake is making some kind of complaint, but the noise barely registers with him – it's unimportant while Rolf is behaving so unusually with him. The other man has rolled up his hood, revealing the tip of a strong nose, and wide lips surrounded by a well-groomed beard and mustache. Nelson licks his lips instinctively, and tilts his head upwards. Rolf briefly kisses him, then pulls away to speak in his ear. “I want to share him with you,” he says quietly.

“You—” Nelson stammers. “How?”

“However we want.” Rolf speaks louder as he glances over his shoulder at the handcuffed youth. “One good turn deserves another,” he says, each word clear and deliberate.

Blake's eyes take on a skittish look as Rolf's meaning sinks in. “That was two years ago! I was just a kid, I did a stupid thing, I know that!”

“Then you also know that delinquent boys get punished,” says Rolf, but when he turns back to Nelson, his look is completely different. Nelson realizes that this just might be the first time in their relationship that Rolf has acknowledged him as an equal in the bedroom. Well, in the bathroom, as it so happens to be. There's hardly a hint of dominance or roughness directed towards him, and while Nelson isn't above begging for such things from Rolf, it's a welcome change to have the encounter fueled by mutual admiration (love?) rather than their strange power-play.

Everything about this is terribly skewed, but what in their relationship isn't?

Nelson takes hold of Rolf's shoulders and squeezes reassuringly. “In all things, darling.”

Rolf exhales sharply, a moan without sound. Cupping Nelson's chin in his hand, Rolf kisses him with a singular passion that he can't remember experiencing before. The kiss is possessive, but Nelson doesn't feel like he's submitting to the other man. It's wonderful. 

A delicious warmth is gathering between his legs, and he grinds his hips up against Rolf's before slipping a hand in between their two bodies. He rubs gently at the generous bulge in Rolf's leggings until he feels it begin to harden. Eagerly sliding his hand beneath the hem, Nelson takes hold of Rolf's cock, its hot weight familiar and comforting, and strokes it to fullness. 

Rolf, brushing his mouth at the edge of Nelson's ear, murmurs something in German and, oh God, it's moments like these when Nelson simultaneously is happiest to be alive, and prays the USMC never reactivates him, red-blooded Americanism be damned. The next thing he knows, Rolf is leading him to kneel on the floor next to Blake, whom Nelson had nearly forgotten.

The other man positions himself down by Blake's legs. Eddie, certainly knowing what's coming next, begins to thrash and kick. “Hold his legs for me,” Rolf says. The fear is evident in Blake's face, and Nelson doesn't want to have to see it. He straddles the prone man's stomach, facing Rolf, and spreads the firm thighs apart. The taut muscles of Blake's abdomen work beneath him; it feels good, it feels powerful. Rolf produces a small tin of lubricant (had he had it all along?) and spreads some on himself. Nelson's breath hitches slightly to watch Rolf handle himself like that, then watches as he settles on his knees and draws Blake's ass up towards him.

Blake is babbling out ceaseless expletives and empty threats. “What the fuck?! Don't you fuckin' pull this shit with me! You're _dead_ , ya hear me?” Nelson focuses on Rolf's face, set in concentration as he enters Blake. 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Eddie screams. 

Nelson flinches, but Rolf only grows more stern. “Shut up or Nelson will join me. Do you want that?” That causes Blake to go silent, and with good reason. Nelson swallows as Rolf begins moving, slow and unhurried. As if reading his mind, Rolf reaches out and buries one hand in the hair at the back of Nelson's head, and pulls him close for another long kiss. He can't help but give up his grip on Blake to take Rolf's face in his hands and draw this out as long as he can. When the kiss breaks, both of them panting for breath, he feels the tin of lubricant being pressed into his hand. “He is for you too,” Rolf says, a mere inch from his face, the heat of his breath maddening. “If you wish.”

It's a very brief deliberation. He has been through a lot tonight, but that doesn't stop him from grasping at Blake's half-hard cock and pumping it to readiness. If anything, the ache in his ass only makes the idea all the more exciting to him, and he's glad that Rolf had understood this. He's not sure how much more roughness he can physically handle, so he spreads the lubricant liberally on Blake, from tip to base, before carefully lowering himself down. 

A sigh escapes his lips as he is easily filled, and Rolf groans with lust to see him like this. Nelson wraps his legs around Rolf's waist, throws his arms around his neck, and simply rocks with his lover. He hasn't felt this close to Rolf in months, and it's not impossible to imagine that it's Rolf who is moving languidly inside him. The thought thrills him enough to make him increase the pace, and Rolf speeds up with him. “Touch me,” Nelson gasps, a little surprised by his own boldness, but Rolf doesn't demand that he say _please_ ; he simply wraps a hand around Nelson. It's still a little slippery from the lubricant, and it all feels so good – he doesn't want this to be over, but he can't last much longer this way.

Then Rolf bucks unexpectedly, driving into Blake, and Blake into Nelson in one swift motion. A moan leaves Nelson's throat as he throws his head back. “Again,” he says hoarsely, and for a second time the force of Rolf's thrust buries Blake's cock to the hilt. “You— oh— Rolf!” he cries, climaxing in his lover's hand as he rides him— no, Blake. The latter makes a strangled, choked sound, and Nelson feels wet heat around his entrance. He collapses against Rolf's chest, limp and sweaty, until Rolf finishes. 

For a few moments, the sound of three men breathing heavily fills the bathroom; then Nelson reluctantly allows Rolf to pull back. A final kiss is planted on his lips, another phrase Nelson doesn't understand is murmured against them, though the meaning is clear enough to make him go dizzy.

“Why don't you clean up and get dressed?” Rolf suggests, standing up and extending a hand to help Nelson up. “I'll take care of this.” He gestures idly down at Blake, who has the odd hint of a smirk on his face. It figures that Eddie would find this funny when all was said and done, the little lunatic. 

~*~*~*~*~

“Run along, now.” Hooded Justice pushes Eddie ahead of him into the alley adjoining Headquarters. The youth stumbles slightly but catches himself; when he turns around, he's grinning like he's won the lottery. 

“You're a fuckin' dead man,” says Eddie, the wide smile not reaching his voice. “I'm gonna cut your dick off and make you eat it – just you wait.”

Hooded Justice leans in the doorway, apparently unfazed. “Won't your mother be wondering where you are, boy?”

Eddie laughs shortly. “Just you wait,” he repeats, and saunters towards the street. There's a pounding pain in his head, soreness in his shoulders, and burning in— well, there's lots of pain, but he can ignore it. He has a name. It's not much to go on, but how many enormous men called Rolf can there be in New York? He has a name, and it's a great start. Even the best jokes have to start with a single word.


End file.
